The 221B Prodigy
by Jambammer
Summary: A collection of one-shots for those who enjoyed the Sherlock and the Baby/Child/Teenager series.
1. It Was Always Going To Be Us

A/N: For those who enjoyed the Sherlock and the Baby/Child/Teenager series, this is just a collection of one-shots about Raven, Drew and the rest of the family :3

* * *

He hadn't remembered being the same height as her, but then, time could alter memories. Yet, here they stood, face to face with his eyes finally being level to hers.

This whole routine, one of them being away for months on end wasn't new. Growing up, it'd always been Raven off at boarding school, only coming back for Christmas and the summers. Then she was at university. Then _he_ was at university.

Now, she was here, picking up _him._ Drew was rather surprised her Uncle hadn't just sent a car.

He felt like a schoolboy again. He'd always loved her. Now at 28, she was just as lovely as ever; pale skin (and a few freckles), ruby lips, dark curls. Being four years younger, he'd never been bothered by the age difference, but he didn't know how she felt. She was the beautiful, unattainable Raven Cecelia Holmes, and he was Drew Watson, and that was just how things were, he supposed.

"Doctor Andrew Watson?" She asked, her voice professional and somewhat cold. The distance between them was hardly professional; if she were to blink, he was sure he'd feel it.

"Yes. Suppose I am," he answered. Doctor. He was a doctor now.

"Good." Before he could register what was happening, Raven had taken his face in her hands and had closed the distance between them with a deep kiss.

"Right, Uncle Mycroft's car is this way," She stated as though nothing had happened once they'd pulled apart. She turned as started walking to the door, her heels clacking against the tiled floor, leaving Drew breathless behind her.

"Raven," he called, and she looked over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"Something we've both wanted to do for a long time. I figured you're finally old enough that people won't judge me."

"A long time?"

"Well you've wanted to since you were thirteen or fourteen, so yes, I'd say it has been a long time for you."

"You—you knew?"

"_Everyone _ knew. You were kind of obvious."

"Oh God."

"Look, it doesn't matter. It was always going to be me and you in the end, wasn't it? Now come on, Uncle doesn't care how long the car's out, but this driver does," she informed him, walking out the doors.

"I suppose it was," he agreed to himself, and grabbed his suitcase to follow after her.


	2. Grace Verner

"Honestly Daddylock, how can you get upset with me over the state of my room when the whole flat looks like this?" Raven complained, pulling her hair up into a short ponytail.

"I don't have time for the trivialities of cleaning," Sherlock replied simply, pulling his violin out of its case. "You, however, _do._"

The sixteen year old scoffed. He could care less about her room, provided it was all kept to her room. She knew what this was; John often chided Drew about cleaning up, so Sherlock had naturally observed it to be something that parents did.

"Whatever. What're all these?" She asked, lifting papers from the table and holding them up.

"You have eyes, Raven, why don't you tell me?"

Great. A test. "They're articles from the newspapers. All grim, so cases you've worked or have at least been interested by. My point was why are they on the table? We could occasionally eat dinner here, you know."

"You're not here enough to justify moving my supplies."

She cast a glance at the microscope beside her. "He likes you more than me, apparently," Raven told it. The detective ignored her and lifted his instrument to his chin. "Can I clean it off for just today so we can maybe have John and Drew over for dinner? I go back to school in a couple days and it would be nice to have one normal meal together. I mean, we're practically all family." No answer. "I'll put it all back exactly how it was."

He was quiet a moment, and she held her breath. "There hadn't be a paper out of place when you put it back or you can spend Christmas break at school."

It may or may not have been a valid threat, but she grinned as the sweet sounds of violin filled the room.

It was hard not to look at all the papers as she picked them up. Some of the articles were quite old, dating back to even before her birth. _Why_ they were still on the table, she didn't know. Articles about murders and robberies, a Chinese smuggling gang – that was interesting, she'd have to research that one later – and the odd obituary.

One in particular caught her eye, mostly because of how dull it was. Car accident claims the lives of two. Peter and Grace Verner. Their obituaries were held to the back of the article with a paperclip. Out of curiosity, Raven flipped to them.

_VERNER, Grace (nee Holmes) - Grace passed away suddenly_

"She was my cousin."

She looked up at the detective. He looked out the window, focused on his playing, acting as though he hadn't noticed her, or said anything at all.

Raven smiled to herself, slipped the articles into her pocket and continued on.


	3. Spy Novels

A/N: So these are going to skip around their timeline a bit.

* * *

With all the years she'd known Sherlock, she never thought she'd see him like this.

Seated in a chair at her bedside, he cradled the newborn infant delicately, occasionally touching one of the tiny hands tenderly, and even once pressing a kiss to the shock of dark hair atop the tiny head. The new mother was sure this had only occurred because he believed her to be asleep. Funny how he often showed himself when he thought no one was watching. But really, after nearly twenty years since he'd adopted her, he should have known better.

Or perhaps he did. She was never totally sure.

"I'm going to teach her to call you Grandpa-lock."

Sherlock looked up, seemingly surprised to see her awake but quickly narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh wouldn't I?" She grinned. "Sounds like a challenge."

"I'm not her biological grandfather. It would be a waste of time."

"You're grandfather enough," Raven replied with a soft smile. "I didn't think you'd know how to hold a baby."

He rolled his eyes. "I have held one before. You were the first, but I held Drew reluctantly when he was an infant as well."

That'd been years ago, and he was far more practiced. He'd been spending far more time at the hospital lately, insisting that it was just another case keeping him here, all the tests he had to run. She'd believed him, until this moment. Oh, there was no doubt he'd been in the lab on case work, but she was willing to bet that some of his time had been spent in the maternity ward.

Practicing for his granddaughter.

Sherlock must have caught on to her train of thought because he changed the subject after clearing his throat. "Her name, then? I assume you have one picked out."

"Molly-Sophia," Raven answered proudly. "Drew's always liked Sophia, and I wanted to name her after his mum. We can't decide on Holmes or Watson, and we don't like the hyphenated version of either. Two hyphenated names might be a bit much, anyways."

Sherlock sniffed. "I think the choice is obvious."

She laughed. "Yes, and so does Grandpa Watson." She looked at her new daughter and titled her head in thought. "Maybe we'll just alternate her names. Molly Watson, Sophia Holmes. It'll be great for if she ever decides to go into... espionage or something."

"You still haven't given up on those awful books you used to read, have you?" Sherlock chided. "Her great Uncle would love that, I suppose."

Raven smirked. "Well if anyone was born into the right family for the perfect spy-novel back story, it would be her."


End file.
